


After the Hunt, Hunting

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU after 6A, Asexual Peter Hale, M/M, Murder Husbands, Noah's depressed, One Shot, Stiles is kind of a mess, one violent scene, there is no more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: After they get rid of the Ghost Riders, there's a lot of fall-out. Stiles has nightmares, Noah is grieving and Peter needs a home.The story of how Peter and Stiles become murder husbands.





	

It’s not his first night back in his own bed and you would think he’d be able to sleep. He’s exhausted, but there’s still so much going on in his head it’s hard to just relax and let go. It was about two weeks ago that they basically saved the town. Werewolves willingly going into the rift to fight the ghost riders in their territory. Stupid thing to do, but of course a brave thing to do. Terrifying for him, left in a make-believe train station with a bunch of zombies for company. And then Peter back again, so pissed off and ready to take the ghost riders down. And somehow it worked.

The town of Beacon Hills is back, and no one seems to remember what happened to them – the days or weeks or longer that they were missing. His father says he hasn’t gotten the expected calls from people thinking someone’s been in their house or things are wrong. It’s like everyone was hypnotized to not remember what happened, ignore their dead plants and spoiled food. It works for him.

Which is good, it’s great. There’s no reason that the whole town needs to be traumatized the way he is. Unable to sleep, not wanting to close his eyes in case he wakes up in that fucking train station again. In case he wasn’t really rescued, not really and the nightmare continues. Or doesn’t continue, because in time, he’d forget his past, forget everything except waiting for a fucking train that never comes.

He checks the time on his phone and it’s getting close to 2:00.  Too early to get up and still plenty of time to sleep if he could sleep.

The thing he can’t forget, the thing that turns around in his head is the people from the other towns. The residents of Canaan and Bannack and Garnet and so many others who they had to leave, who are gone and can’t come back. Peter being the voice of reason (ha!) telling the rescue team that they couldn’t just bring back a bunch of people who had been gone for years; it would cause too many questions and the people wouldn’t just be able to jump back into a life when their family and friends had aged for however many years.

It made sense, in a sick, sad way. The residents of Bannack vanished in 1970. The town of Skido was taken in the 1700s; there’s no way those people could be brought back, even if they could figure out who went where and how to rescue them.

And of course, he’s awake listening to his father toss and turn in his room next door. Stiles was gone and his mother was here. His father had almost three months back in his old life or at least most of his old life. He had Claudia, the love of his life. And now he has his son back, but Claudia is gone. Again. He can’t have both. His father spends evenings slowly sipping one glass of scotch, careful not to fall completely in to the bottle again. Stiles isn’t sure it’s a fair trade-off.

 

There’s no surprise hearing the window open and the familiar thump of someone entering his room. It’s only been a few months, but that’s something he won’t forget soon. He looks over and sighs when he sees who’s standing there.

“Peter? What the fuck, man? You’re not my usual nighttime visitor!”

Of course he raises an eyebrow when he replies, “You have normal visitors? Is there a schedule?”

“What do you want?” Stiles asks, slumping back against his pillow. He’s tired and it’s the middle of the night and he really doesn’t need this shit.

“Just checking on you, making sure you’re recovering.” Peter looks around and settles down in Stiles’ desk chair. “Good thing I’m here, you’re obviously not sleeping. Tsk tsk tsk, Stiles, that’s not good for your health, you know.”

Stiles snorts, not bothering to sit up. “Look, Peter, you might have helped with the hunt and stuff, but that doesn’t mean you’re welcome here. Go on back to your house or your tunnels or wherever the fuck you live.”

“It’s interesting that you say that, Stiles, because I am in a bit of fix about living arrangements right now. Since someone forgot to pay the rent on my apartment while I was away,” Peter answers, with a delicate sniff.

“Yeah, well take that up with your nephew or someone who gives a shit,” Stiles answers and rolls over with his back towards the wolf. “You can see yourself out. Don’t make me call in my Dad; he’s probably still awake.”

“He is,” Peter answers. “And that’s good. Why don’t you call him, I think we three should have a little talk. About your needs and your health. Two things I’m very concerned about. And about how we can help each other in these challenging times.”

Stiles sits up in bed and stares at Peter. “You don’t need to talk with my Dad. There’s nothing to talk about, and he doesn’t want to talk with you.”

“Well I don’t know about that. We did have a meeting of the minds while you were gone. He thanked me for my help in finding you,” Peter says, standing and moving towards the closed bedroom door. “How about I go get him?”

“You stay here and do not move. Do not touch anything,” Stiles says, quickly getting out of bed. “I’ll get him and he’ll tell you to get out, since you seem to want someone other than me to kick you out.”

 

Stiles knocks on the door and enters after a minute. His father’s bed is a mess, covers sliding off the bed from his restless attempt to sleep.

“Dad?” he whispers, in case his father has finally fallen asleep.

His father sits up, pushing his hair back off his face. “Stiles, you okay?”

“Um, yeah, but…Peter Hale’s here and he says you two are buddies and he’s not leaving and I am sure you are not cool with that. Right?”

“Peter Hale’s in your bedroom and won’t leave? Seriously, Stiles? He helped get you back, he went through hell going through that portal or whatever it was. Tell him to go to the guest room, you go to sleep and let me go to sleep,” Noah says, and lies back down, grumbling under his breath.

Stiles snorts and turns back to his room, muttering, “Man, what happened while I was gone?”

“I’m not sure. I think the world turned around,” the lump in the bed answers.

 

When he gets back to his room, Peter’s sitting at the desk looking at Stiles’ college acceptance letters. “These look good, where are you planning on going?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles answers, defeat in his posture as he flops back on his bed. “Dad says you should go sleep in the guest room. I’m sure you know where that is, I have a feeling you know where everything in the house is.”

Peter grins as he stands, and drags his hand over Stiles’ shoulder as he passes him. “See you in the morning, Kitten.”

“No cute nicknames!” Stiles hisses after Peter leaves, sure the wolf can still hear him. He burrows under his covers again, hoping that now he’ll be able to sleep.

 

The smell of coffee and bacon wakes Stiles the next morning. Bacon is still forbidden in the house, but things are so off that it’s not worth a fight. Besides there’s bigger issues to talk about.

He pulls on some clean clothes and heads downstairs hearing Peter and his father quietly talking in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, giving Peter a wide berth to get to the coffee pot.

“Good morning, Stiles,” Peter answers with a smile that should make everyone nervous. “Toast and bacon are done. I’ll make some eggs now that you’re up. Scrambled or over easy?”

“Go for the scrambled, son, they’ll have cheese.” Noah looks smug, as he picks up the last bit of egg from his plate with a piece of toast. He tops it with a bit of bacon and pushes it all in his mouth.

Stiles shakes his head and sits at the table across from his father. “Scrambled is fine, thank you. Although this is completely weird.”

Peter puts a full plate in front of him and sits at the place between them with his own plate. “As I told you, things changed in the time you were missing. How’s your breakfast?”

Stiles grunts and nods, shoving food in his mouth. His appetite hasn’t quite returned, but this is a good breakfast; maybe he should just eat breakfast for every meal. Preferably without Peter.

“So your father and I discussed the situation and agreed that I would stay in the guest room for a couple of weeks while I’m getting my new apartment,” Peter says, sipping his coffee.

“What happened to your apartment?” Stiles asks, not that he really cares. Except that it means Peter will be here. Because his life isn’t fucked up enough.

“The building manager cancelled my lease and packed up my stuff since I was gone for close to five months and didn’t pay rent. Nice how no one thought about that,” he sniffs, getting up to pour more coffee for the Stilinski men. “I might have thought Derek would pay for my apartment so I had something to return to.”

“Dude, really?” Stiles shakes his head and gathers the plates from the table carrying them to the sink. “We really thought – no, hoped – that you’d be in there forever. Well, maybe not me exactly, but certainly Scott and Lydia. And probably Derek. Most people who’ve met you wanted you to be in Eichen.”

“You didn’t think that?” Noah asks. It seems that he’s barely been paying attention, pouring cream into his coffee and stirring for longer than needed, lost in thought. “Did you want him out?”

Stiles shrugs, and looks down at the table before he answers. “No. Maybe. I mean I know from personal experience it’s a shit-hole and there’s no ‘therapy’ there -- it’s just a prison. I think the place should be leveled, but where else do you put a homicidal maniac?” he asks, staring at Peter.

Peter sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “I’m hardly a maniac, now am I? And this town tends to be a little…well, let’s just agree I’m not the first homicidal person here, wouldn’t you agree?” He turns to Noah and says, “We talked a little before we actually got Stiles back about after affects from the ghost riders. From Stiles being taken and that perhaps he should be, what’s the best way to say it, someone should keep an eye on him?”

“What? The fuck, Peter?” Stiles shouts pushing away from the table. “Dad? Dad, you’re not listening to this crap, are you?”

“Stiles, sit down,” his father frowns, saying, “I think Peter knows a bit more about the supernatural than either of us do.” He turns to Peter and nods. “Go ahead, tell him what you told me.”

Peter takes a breath and looks between Stiles and his father. “You need to understand there’s a cumulative affect from your experiences. When you died as a sacrifice, plus your little fox episode, your natural spark and now this – it leaves you even more vulnerable, both physically and mentally. If you were open to the nogitsune before…” he shrugs and holds out his hands, palms up, in a “you know what’s next” gesture. “It all leaves a darkness around your heart, Stiles. Around your heart and in your head.”

“And what do you get out of this?” Stiles asks, “Other than temporary shelter?”

“Well, let’s see. First of all, I would think this would be well thought of with your pack. Someone with time and knowledge to take care of you. Which would make sure that no one thinks Eichen is an acceptable option. And of course, there is the part about being sure you’re okay. And finally, with your spark you could do a lot of damage, if you chose. I’d like to prevent that if possible.”

“And you think you can help? Better than I can?” Noah asks, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last few months, his hair grayer and bags under his eyes. They’re all feeling the cumulative affect.

“I think I’m very qualified to help, both from my knowledge and because I do genuinely care. I’ve always told Stiles that I like him. I want to him to be healthy and happy,” Peter answers and smiles at Stiles. “I think if someone had alerted me to your fox situation earlier…”

“Bullshit,” Stiles hisses, half rising out of his seat. “That’s bullshit and you know it, you couldn’t have…”

Peter cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “We’ll never know now, will we?  But now that we’re aware there might be an issue – one that is completely out of your control – we can do something proactively. I’m old enough and strong enough that I can basically be your anchor. Help to be sure you recover from your recent ordeal. And keep an eye on anything new.”

“You were there longer than I was. Why should we think that you’re okay?” Stiles looks at his father, who still has that half-aware look he’s had since Stiles came back. “Not that you ever were really okay.”

Peter smiles patiently, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. “True, I did have issues after my family was burnt alive in front of me. And you’ll remember I was in a coma for six years after that. But actually that’s what makes me uniquely qualified for this job. If anyone will recognize when someone’s going a little over the edge, it would be me.”

Noah shrugs and looks at Stiles. “I think it sounds like a good idea. I told you, Stiles, he was helpful while you were gone – Peter had ideas about getting you back and of course, he’s stronger than, say Liam is.”

“Fine, fine, he can stay and help baby sit me,” Stiles spits out as he paces the kitchen. “But you know, he’s really not here to help and watch me; it’s just a place to hang out until he can move to his new apartment or whatever.”

“I’ll be staying as long as you need me. I worked hard to get you back and I’m not abandoning you after I’m in my new home.” Peter reaches out his hand and gently guides Stiles back onto a chair. “And I think you’re planning on college in the fall and I can help you get ready for that.”

“I’m in favor of it,” Noah says again. “Could you do it for me, if not for yourself?”

“Dad, that’s not… that’s not fair,” Stiles says, trying to keep a whine out of his voice. He snorts and throws up his hands in defeat. “Fine, welcome to Casa Stilinski, Uncle Creepy.”

 

They spend the day at home, with Stiles going back to bed for more sleep. When he finally wakes up again in the late afternoon, Peter’s cleaned the house, including the kitchen, and has the second load of laundry in the dryer.

“I went to the grocery store while you were napping.” He holds up a hand when Stiles starts to talk and says, “Healthy food for your father, I know the drill.”

Stiles moves to the stove and looks in a pot on the stove. He takes a sniff and says, “Smells good. Chili?”

“With turkey and a lot of vegetables. I know your father likes spice.” Peter nudges him to the side and gives the pot a stir. “It just needs to simmer a bit more.”

“I don’t think he has anything to complain about.” Stiles leaves the kitchen and then walks into the living room. “Wow, you did a lot today,” he says, looking around at how clean everything is, the room vacuumed and pillows plumped. “Thanks. I’m still suspicious, but thanks.”

“Well, you needed to catch up on your sleep and I wanted to make things easier for you,” Peter says, shrugging, back turned to Stiles. “And to earn my keep.”

“Stop being helpful, it’s freaking me out,” Stiles answers. But he’s grinning when he pats Peter on the shoulder, getting out dishes to set the table for dinner.

 

After dinner, both Stiles and Noah fall asleep in the living room. Peter lets them sleep until after the late news and then he wakes them both, prodding them to go upstairs.

Stiles falls back asleep almost immediately and when he wakes up sometime later he finds Peter in his bed, wrapped around him like a warm, muscley octopus. “What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles mutters, trying to push away and not be the little spoon. What’s with Hales making him the little spoon?

“You were having a nightmare,” Peter answers, rubbing his face against the back of Stiles’ hair. “I heard you from my room, so came in to wake you up and keep you from having another one.”

“That sounds like bullshit,” Stiles whispers, but before he can argue any more he starts to fall asleep again. “Hey, be out of my room when my dad wakes up.”

Peter yawns and pulls the covers up over their shoulders and falls asleep as well.  

 

Stiles’ dad is gone to work by the time they get up and Peter starts breakfast while Stiles gets coffee on and rinses out his father’s glass from the night before.

“That bottle was new just a couple of days ago,” he says quietly, jutting his chin at the half-empty bottle on the liquor cabinet.

“He misses your mother. It’s like he has to grieve for her all over again.” Peter puts food on two plates, pushing one towards Stiles.

“I know that, do you think I don’t know that? God, I understand, he had her and lost her again, because of me. I just… I just don’t want to do this again,” Stiles says, pushing the eggs around on his plate.

“You’re older now and while it still hurts, at least now you can take care of yourself. And I’m here to take care of you, too. Both of you, if needed.” Peter pours Stiles more coffee and nudges his plate. “Eat, you’re too thin.”

Stiles snorts and tries to finish his breakfast while Peter keeps an eye on him.

 

After they eat and clean up, Peter announces he needs to go shopping. There’s many things he needs to get for his new home and Stiles is lucky enough to go with him.

“What do you need to get?” Stiles asks, getting into Peter’s car. Of course he’s not allowed to drive, but Peter’s car is warm and the leather seats are very comfortable.  

“Let’s see. Everything that will be in the kitchen. And bedroom. And the bathroom. And the living room. And basically everything. My former home was pretty much ransacked.” He doesn’t appear too upset as he talks about this and Stiles secretly thinks this is Peter’s idea of fun. Until he says, “And a new laptop. My old laptop is gone.”

“Good, that thing was an antique. We’ll get you a new one and you’ll see how much faster they are now and you’ll get a lot more memory, too.” Stiles grins and says, “I’ll help you pick out a good one, since I know you don’t have a budget. You don’t, do you?”

“Money isn’t a problem.  However, that old laptop did have the bestiary on it and that’s gone now. I can try to rewrite it, but…”

Stiles snorts and asks, “Seriously, Peter? You know I made a copy the first time I knew it existed. We’ll get your laptop set up and I’ll loan you the drive and you can get back up to speed.”

“You always were the smart one,” Peter says, pulling into the mall parking lot.

They spend most of the day going from store to store and Peter does buy an amazing amount of things. The new laptop, a washer and dryer, a fancy (and pricey) coffee maker and even some clothes. Stiles follows along, interested in this version of Peter the Homemaker. And since Peter buys lunch, it’s not that much of a hardship.

Peter makes dinner again and Noah is home from work in time to eat it while it’s still hot. He and Peter talk about upcoming football games while Stiles sits quietly watching and eating. Later, Peter and Stiles sit at the dining room table setting up Peter’s computer and copying files from Stiles’ laptop to Peter’s. His father goes to bed without drinking, giving Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze before going upstairs. Overall, the day is a win.

It’s around midnight when Stiles and Peter go to bed. Peter going to the guest room, but he ends up waking up Stiles who’s whimpering and thrashing. This time it’s a nightmare about his mother, when she died the first time. Peter gets into bed with him, pulling him close and they fall back asleep. Stiles is less upset about it then he expected.

 

Peter spends the next few weeks dragging Stiles around shopping, making dinner and generally being a peacekeeper for the Stilinskis. Peacekeeper and part-time therapist to both Stilinski men. He listens as Noah talks about how he shouldn’t miss the second, fake version of his wife. Stiles says he’s just over it, ready to move into a different life, one where he doesn’t feel so empty and can be more in control.

There’s not a lot of time spent with the other pack members. It’s as though they all think if they pretend there’s no supernatural and they’re all just normal people it’ll keep the bad guys away. Stiles does meet Scott for lunch (and hopefully an afternoon of gaming) but he spends a lot of lunch with his nose wrinkled, commenting on how much Stiles smells like Peter and why is Peter still around. Stiles says Peter’s helping and he’s protective to the family, but Scott doesn’t seem to want to listen. And of course, Scott’s always right, at least to Scott. Stiles begs off gaming, using his father as an excuse. And when he goes home after lunch, he’s happy to spend the afternoon marathoning some Miss Fisher mysteries with Peter.

 

After one afternoon of picking out pillows, sheet sets and a comforter, Peter drives some place new. Well, it’s really not new, it’s a street just off the main street in Beacon Hills. He parks against a curb and crosses the street to one of the small, “historic” houses in Beacon Hills’ downtown.

“Here it is, come on in and be careful, it’s still under construction.” Peter pulls out keys and they enter into a room that’s clearly not completed.

“This used to be small, boxy rooms, the kitchen and living room separate, but as you can see, I had that taken down.” Peter walks towards the kitchen and smiles as he pulls up a bit of paper taped over the counter. “Concrete counter tops.” He points out where the sink and fridge will go, and makes sure Stiles admires the new hardwood floors.

“Wow, this looks nice, or like it will be nice. So this is why you’ve made yourself at home at our house?” Stiles asks, looking out the kitchen window to a mess in the backyard. There’s construction equipment on piles of wood and more weeds than lawn.

“There’s going to be a deck outside and just a small lawn,” Peter says, looking over Stiles’ shoulder. “Hmm, new fence is up, good. Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

“How long until this is complete?” Stiles asks as he looks around while walking down a small hallway.

Peter turns and cocks his head, studying Stiles. “Am I wearing out my welcome?”

“No, nope, just asking,” Stiles says, giving Peter a gentle push. “What’s the rest?”

He opens a door to a room with just a shower stall in it. “Bathroom, or it will be. There’s only one, but since this is supposed to be a historic house, I couldn’t change the outside footprint. And I didn’t want to go up.”

“My room,” he says, opening another door to a room that looks pretty finished to Stiles. “Paint, carpet and crown molding to be done. Carpet back here – except the bathroom of course – and hardwood everywhere else. And this is the guest room.” He opens another door and they step inside. “Carpet, paint and molding again.”

There’s six sample squares of paint on one of the walls and Stiles asks, “You know what you’re going with?”

Peter shakes his head and says, “What do you like?”

“The kind of – what is that one in the corner? Like sage or something? It looks calm.”

Peter nods and says, “Yes, good choice. I was leaning towards that. This is, if you want it, the room I planned for you.”

His eyes get huge, looking at Peter. “Me? Umm, why? I do have a house, you’ve been in it?”

“Just a thought,” Peter answers, waving his hand. “Close to home, but still a place for an adult. In case home gets too…confining?”

“Hmm, roomies with you? Well, you’re not as horrible as I originally thought. I’ll think about it.” Peter steps back to let Stiles through the doorway, making sure not to crowd him. “Depends on the carpet color.”

“Berber, light gray.” Peter follows back in to the living room, heading towards the door. “I know you’re planning on doing online classes at the start, this might be a good place for you, away from distractions. And I’ll be here at night if you have nightmares.”

Stiles doesn’t turn around when he answers, “I’ll think about it.” Actually, it sounds pretty appealing.

 

The rest of the construction goes well, probably because Peter throws money at it. It’s just another couple of weeks until he moves into his new house, with Stiles helping with boxes of all the new stuff he’s purchased.

Stiles unpacks a box of bakeware into a cabinet and says, “This stuff is fine, but I’m not putting away your clothes, that’s just creepy, Peter.”

“No one’s asking you to; it’s very helpful what you’re doing in here.” Peter pours two cups of coffee, putting one in front of Stiles. “I think you might want to make the bed in your room, however.”

“Not really my room, you know,” he says, downing half of the coffee. “But I’ll put that room together to help. Did we get drapes or blinds or anything? You know to keep out the sun in the morning.”

“Blinds are being installed next week. Until then, we just suffer,” Peter answers and turns to look at Stiles. “I’m thinking we go out to dinner, that work? We can pick something up and take it to your father as well.”

Stiles stops for a moment and Peter glances over when his scent sours. “Dinner sounds good, but we don’t need to get stuff for Dad. He…” Stiles sighs and shrugs, still facing the cabinets. “He’s working again tonight. I guess that’s good, because when he’s not at work, he’s still drinking. He’ll eat at the station and he won’t notice if I’m not home tonight.”

It’s kind of surprising how comfortable he is in Peter’s home; it feels like his home, too. Actually he’s more comfortable there than in his childhood home. His father is working more than ever and there’s this silence between them, in the shape of his mother.

 

Stiles isn’t sure when he started to trust and even like Peter. He’s quiet, mostly. And Stiles will admit he’s attractive. He’s also not nearly as pushy as Stiles expected, except for things like making sure he eats and gets enough sleep. It’s nice having a room in his house, having his own space that doesn’t remind him of his childhood and his parents – his lost mother and apparently his lost father.

Noah hasn’t noticed that Stiles has all but moved out. There wasn’t any long good-bye and he didn’t pack up his room into moving boxes. It happened over time, a few books in his back-pack, then some shirts in a brown paper bag.  Peter doesn’t push him, doesn’t say anything actually about there being too much stuff or not enough. And his father doesn’t mention that he’s hardly ever at home any more.

 

Peter looks up when the front door slams and Stiles comes in mumbling to himself.

“Should I bother to ask how things went?” he asks, watching Stiles’ back as he goes into the fridge looking for a drink.

“It was weird. Different and weird,” Stiles answers. He met Scott for lunch, over an hour drive each way as he’s away at college at Chico State. They text and skype, but don’t see each other in person very often. “I think he was feeling sorry for me, you know, because I’m still here. We’d talked about where we’d go to college, always talking about going away…”

Peter shrugs and hands Stiles a bag of potato chips, knowing he needs something to take his aggression out on. “You could leave if you wanted to, but you chose to stay here. It’s a choice, and I don’t see how he can judge.”

“Oh, he’s judging, believe me,” Stiles answers, spitting crumbs on his shirt. “He kept wrinkling his nose like I smell.”

“You do smell,” Peter tells him, with a smile playing at his lips. “You smell like me. I’m sure he was annoyed at that.”

He sets the bag down on the counter, and continues his pacing in the living room. “Well that’s also none of his business. I mean, I’m taking classes, I’ve got two at the community college and two on-line and that’s a full load, same as he’s doing!”

“Right. And he’s got nothing to say about it. Your life and your choices.”

Stiles nods and says, “Yeah, I know that, you know, in my head. But it’s just rrrrrr,” he growls.

“You shouldn’t let his judgements bother you, you’re above that. You’re above most people.” Peter gives Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze and says, “Here I thought you were becoming so much less angry.”

“I am, I think,” Stiles answers, deflating. “I try to not get angry, not go there. I haven’t thought about killing anyone around here in ages. Strangely enough, you are a calming presence. A calming, maniacal presence.” He flops down on the couch, pulling Peter down next to him. “Really the only person I still want to kill is Theo, but I think I’ll always want to do that. I can’t believe that Scott left and left him here with his baby werewolf pack. Talk about ignoring your responsibilities!”

“Theo is horrible and I agree, I’m not sure why Scott left him here. Other than his stupid ‘no killing’ rule.” Peter gets comfortable on the couch, turning to face Stiles. “Theo killed his sister and he killed Scott. But he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. He’s fairly strong, but I’m stronger. And his biggest flaw, the easiest way to get to him is through his arrogance. He’s over confident and that makes him careless.”

Stiles grins and raises an eyebrow. “Strong and over confident? I’m not saying it sounds like someone in this room, but…”

Peter cups his hand around Stiles’ jaw, his fingers gently rubbing the tender space behind his ear. “Darling, one thing I never am, is careless.”

His breath catches and then Stiles leans forward and kisses Peter, quickly and slightly awkward. He wraps his hand around Peter’s neck and takes another breath. “You do know I want this. I don’t know if you’ve been waiting for me or what, but I want this.”

The wolf sits back and takes Stiles hand. “I’m not sure if ‘this’ is what I think it is to you. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Stiles sighs and sits back a little, the smell of disappointment cancelling out the smell of arousal. “I thought maybe… I don’t know, Peter, I thought maybe you want to sleep with me.”

“We already sleep together, more nights than we don’t.” He pauses and studies Stiles’ face, then says, “Are you unhappy? We can talk about it, if you are.”

“I just… I guess I thought that maybe there’s something more between us. That you like me and… I thought we might maybe be more? Having sex together, I mean,” Stiles says, and looks away, blush rising on his cheeks. “But maybe you’re not attracted to me, I mean, look at you and look at me…”

Peter moves towards him and pulls Stiles closer so they’re facing each other again. “You are attractive, to me and to anyone with eyes. You’re lovely and smart and funny and loyal to your friends and positively vicious when you should be.” He turns Stiles’ face toward him again, making sure Stiles is looking at him and says, “Your only fault is you don’t think enough of yourself. We need to work on that self-esteem problem.”

Stiles tilts his head into Peter’s hand and shuts his eyes for a minute, sighing. “So you think I’m attractive and that’s great, but you don’t want to have sex with me? I really don’t see you looking at anyone, beyond your normal flirting with everyone. I’m probably being nosey, but do you want to sleep with anyone? ‘Cause you really could, probably with anyone. And you should, just because you don’t want to sleep with me, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, you know, with someone else. Don’t let me stop you. I don’t want to be a cock-blocker.”

“You’re not,” Peter chuckles, rubbing Stiles’ shoulder. “I guess there’s really not anyone in particular I find attractive enough for sex. It’s just not something that’s particularly interesting to me.”

“Oh! Oh, okay, I get it,” Stiles says, sitting back a bit. He takes Peter’s hand, looking to be sure he doesn’t look upset or want to pull away. “Okay, so you’re asexual, is that it? You’re not interested in sex with anyone?”

Peter squeezes their hands together as he thinks.  “No, not really. I mean, I have had sex before and it was… messy and awkward and really rather boring. Not worth the trouble and I’ve never understood why people think it’s so important.”

“Yeah, I think that’s asexual.” They’re quiet for a moment and Stiles says, “So do you like, fall in love? Or are you aromantic, too?”

“So many labels,” Peter answers and runs a hand through his hair. “Fall in love? I don’t even know what that is.”

Stiles snorts and says, “Don’t be purposely obtuse. Love. You know, you think they’re wonderful and they’re the most attractive person ever and everything they say is magic. You want to be with them all the time and when you’re not, you’re thinking about them. That kind of thing.”

Peter looks at their joined hands and shrugs before looking up at Stiles. “I used to love my family, but I think that’s not what you mean. Love? Maybe. If I met someone who’s smart and funny and loyal and vicious when it’s called for. And a bit attractive.” He smiles and says, “When I first heard about you, when Derek came back here and came to the hospital and told me about this pushy man-child who annoyed him and never listened to him. Just hearing about you, I knew you were special. Is that enough?”

“You love me!” Stiles crows and throws himself at Peter, making sure to expose his throat to the wolf and sighing when Peter rubs his face into his neck. When they separate, Stiles stays on his lap, he says, “You know, I think I’m falling in love with you, too. I didn’t know that I would, but you kind of grew on me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Very okay.” Peter rubs Stiles’ throat, stretching the neck of his t-shirt to rub lower. “I’ll do my best to give you what you need.”

“We’ll work something out,” Stiles tells him, arching his back into Peter’s touch. “Only thing to thank Theo for, getting us to here.”

“Hmm.” Peter nods and grabs Stiles by the waist, and flips him back to his spot on the couch. “I suppose so, but I still think we should kill him. Or I can do it, I’m fine doing it alone.”

“Yes to killing and no to sex. You’re a mystery, Peter Hale.”

Peter sighs and says, “It’s not like I can’t have sex. If sex is important to you, we can…”

Stiles pushes himself off the couch and shoves his hands in his pocket. “No, no, I’m just… we’re talking about killing someone and you know I make stupid jokes when I’m uncomfortable. I mean, it’s not self-defense, this is planning to murder someone. Planning. Like making plans.”

“I doubt he’d take this amount of consideration before killing you. But as I said, you don’t have to.” Peter shrugs and smiles and it’s not a nice smile. “I consider it pre-emptive self-defense. Perfectly reasonable, given the circumstances.”

Stiles thinks for just a moment, then looks at Peter with his own matching grin. “Fuck it, he’s horrible. I’m in. Let’s kill Theo.”

 

It’s not as hard to kill Theo as they expected, in large part because of his ego. It didn’t occur to him that Stiles is dangerous, so he was careless. Just as Peter said he would be.

It’s a straight-forward plan. Stiles sends him a text, saying he needs help. Theo of course asks why him and Stiles explains it’s only because Scott isn’t around. Theo isn’t his first choice.

He says he’ll explain if they can meet in person and he’s hesitant to text details in case Peter sees it.

“Problem with Peter?” Theo texts back.  

“Not safe or sane. Pls meet me,” Stiles sends back and waits with the bait in plain view.

 

Theo believes he’s smarter than everyone.

Theo believes he’s stronger than Stiles.

Theo believes he’s invincible.

Theo’s wrong.

 

They meet under the bleaches at the high school as Stiles requests. Late at night and no one’s around. He acts nervous, looking over his shoulder and being twitchier than usual.

“So you’re saying _now_ you think Peter’s a problem?” Theo asks, with a snotty little sneer on his face.  “You’re shacking up with him, right? Disturbing.”

Stiles looks around and there’s no one on the field that he can see. “He was fine, doing really good. Just acting like a normal werewolf, if there’s such a thing. Friendly. Supportive.” He pushes his hair back, looking around once more for the blue eyes that flash in the distance. “Now he’s talking about wanting to go out and find an alpha to kill. I guess it’s better than him attacking Scott, but…”

Theo nods, cutting Stiles off. “And why didn’t you tell Scott? Wouldn’t that make sense?”

“You know Scott. He doesn’t believe in killing. Last time he put Peter in Eichen and he escaped, because that’s what he does. Peter always comes back. You can’t kill him and you can’t lock him up.” Stiles starts talking faster, rubbing his hands on his arms as though he’s cold. “You would be able to help. I’ll help you, but I need your help.” His heart’s ready to beat out of his chest, but that could be explained from his worry and nerves.

“Okay, sure, he doesn’t seem like he’d be too hard to put down. Especially if we can get the element of surprise,” Theo says, rubbing his eyes. “So where is he, is he at his house?”

“No, he’s actually behind you,” Stiles says, winking at Peter.

Theo looks puzzled for a second. Then he growls and looks over his shoulder and Peter jumps out from where he was hiding. He gives Theo a heavy swipe across his chest, knocking him backwards. And then Stiles.

Peter’s attack gives Stiles just enough time to pull out his baseball bat from where he hid it under the bleachers. He hits Theo hard and dead center in his temple. When Theo falls, Stiles stands over his body and hit his head again. And then a couple more times, muttering something that not even Peter can hear.

“Stiles, dear, I think that’s enough,” Peter says, reaching out to touch his bicep as he swings again. “Darling? You should stop now.” Peter grabs the bat and pulls it from Stiles’ hands, tossing it on the ground nearby. “Stiles. Stop.”

Stiles doesn’t pull away, panting and shaking, with his hands clenched into fists.

“Stiles?” Peter takes his arm and draws him away from the body on the ground. “Stay here for a minute, okay? I want to be sure he’ll stay dead.”

Stiles nods, keeping his back to Peter and the mess that was Theo. When Peter comes back he clears his throat and asks, “It’s done? Like we said?”

“He’s very dead and beheaded, as we agreed. I’ll take the body and get rid of it and you go home and shower. You have a little…” Peter pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes Stiles’ face. “Don’t forget your bat. It’s a handy little thing.”

Stiles picks it up, and puts it in a black garbage bag he stuffed under one of the bleachers earlier. “Rowan. I had it made. It is pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Very effective. And now I’ll see you soon,” Peter says, putting the head into another bag.

“I’m coming with you,” Stiles replies, tucking the bag under his arm. “I want to know what you’re doing with him. It.”

Peter bows and gestures forward, staying under the bleachers. “As you wish, dear heart. I’ll meet you there.”

He shifts and runs off, probably running faster than the jeep can go. Stiles makes sure to drive the speed limit and parks at the far side of the preserve, walking a few minutes to get to the lake. Peter’s there, but he waited as promised, bags on the ground at his feet.

“So we just throw it in? And that’s safe?” Stiles asks, looking at the black garbage bags with Theo’s remains sitting in front of them.

Peter picks up the heavier one and swings it back and forth watching Stiles. “This works. The lake is deep and things put down there, stay down there.”

“Just curious, is this the first time you’ve used this site?” Stiles asks, picking up the lighter bag. As in the one with Theo’s head.

Peter just grins, eyes flashing in the dark. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. Ready?”

“Asshole,” Stiles replies. Then he spins around several times and releases the bag, watching it fly and land in the middle of the lake where it quickly sinks.

 

When they get home, Stiles is on an adrenaline high, chatting and unable to stop moving. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we did that. I mean, I did that, or at least I did a lot of it, didn’t I? Oh my god, I’m horrible. No, it was good, it’ll keep everyone safer. Or, I’m a terrible, horrible person…”

“Calm down, Darling. You should take a shower, can you do that by yourself?” Peter asks. He’s in the kitchen washing his hands, cleaning under his nails with a scrub brush.

“Yeah, a shower makes sense.” Stiles is half way down the hall when he turns and says, “Hey, what’s with all the cute nicknames?”

Peter shrugs and says, “I just want you to know I care. Does it bother you?”

Stiles shakes his head and goes back to Peter for a quick kiss. “I like it, thank you.”

 

When Stiles comes out, wearing sweat pants and one of Peter’s shirts, there’s a sandwich and cup of tea waiting for him. “How are you feeling?” Peter asks. He looks curious, but not really concerned.

“Okay, I think,” Stiles answers, taking a sip of the hot, sweet tea. “It’s a little weird though. I mean, I don’t feel guilty at all. It’s kind of good, doing something, you know? Getting ahead of something, not just reacting.”

“I agree. You can’t just react to things, especially not around here; you need to take a more proactive approach.” Peter takes his cup of tea into the living room, knowing Stiles will follow when he’s finished eating. When Stiles settles on the other end of the couch, Peter says, “So do you think we should pursue this further? Checking for whoever else is a danger to us?”

Stiles blinks and silently sips his tea.

 

“Do you mind me sleeping with you?” Stiles asks later when they’re both under the covers in Peter’s room.

“No, not at all,” Peter answers, wrapping his arm around Stiles and pulling him close. “I enjoy having you close.”

“I like it, too,” Stiles whispers. He turns his head and gives Peter a quick kiss on the cheek before he snuggles back into the warm bed. “I feel safe with you.”

 

The next morning, Stiles is up before Peter and has coffee already made.

“You’re up early,” he says, accepting the cup Stiles pours. “Trouble sleeping?”

“No, not at all. Best sleep in a while.” Stiles sets a plate with buttered English muffins on the table and takes two, pushing the plate to Peter. “Not as good as your breakfasts, but maybe we’ll go out to lunch?”

“Sure.” Peter watches Stiles twitch in his chair and after a moment says, “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you just going to sit there and stew in your own juices.”

“Okay,” he says and sighs dramatically. “Okay. It’s like this…I think that we did a good thing yesterday. We did something that was good for the entire city.”

“Yes, I agree. We did a good thing. And I kind of enjoyed it, too. I suppose that makes me a bad person,” Peter says, with a smirk and a shrug.

“Well that’s a given, isn’t it?” Stiles smiles blandly and takes a deep breath. “I also kind of liked it. I don’t know if I enjoyed the part about helping the city or if I enjoyed…”

“You enjoyed the part about killing him. Ending him, and being the one who did the thing that needed to be done. There’s no shame in that; it’s not a problem being satisfied when you do a good job.”

“Yeah, maybe. And feeling like I had some power. I felt powerful and in control; you know that’s not common in my life. And we did work well together as a team, didn’t we?” Stiles asks, and Peter smiles at the glow in his bright, happy eyes.

“Yes, we did. We’ve always been a good team, with whatever we’re doing.” Peter gets up from the table and takes Stiles’ hand, moving them both to the couch. “Now we can do something else. If you want.”

Stiles nods and blows out a breath. “Yes. Yes, I want to do this. Who should we kill next?”

“Oh, dear heart,” Peter says, and pulls Stiles onto his lap, burying his nose in sweet skin of Stiles’ neck. “I’m not sure. We can take our time to decide, if you’d like.”

“Hmm, I like it when you do that,” Stiles says, tilting his head to bare his throat for the wolf. “It makes me feel like… like you want me and like you’re taking care of me.”

Peter nips at Stiles’ throat and then kisses the little bruise. “I do want you, you’re mine. You have been forever, you know that. Now let’s talk about who we get to kill. How about Mason?”

“Mason?” Stiles asks, sitting up and pulling away from Peter. “Why Mason? I don’t know him well, but he seems okay.”

Peter lets him move, but keeps a hand around his waist so he doesn’t completely tumble off. “Well, it seems that he’s taking your place doing research for the pack.  And in fact, when you were gone with the ghost riders, Mason as the one assigned to research – and he did a good job of it, too. If you want that position back…well, fill in the blank.”

“No. No, Peter, that’s not right. I mean, there needs to be someone here to take care of things. I’d like to be able to leave here at some point and if Mason helps the pack here, I’m okay with that.” He checks on Peter and asks, “Are you okay with that? Did you have your heart set on killing Mason?”

“No, darling, not at all. It was just a thought.” Peter waits until Stiles relaxes against him again before he asks, “So are you saying no one that we know or just not Mason? How about your father?”

“What? No, for god’s sake, no!” Stiles moves off his lap, pacing in front of the sofa, shooting Peter looks that could kill. “No, to my father and anyone we know is certainly off limits. I can’t believe you would…”

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter interrupts, waving his hand to get Stiles’ attention. “I just wasn’t sure if you thought that he was suffering too much or was too depressed or whatever. I don’t want to hurt him either, I was just giving you the option. I’m happy with your choice, I rather like your father. In spite of the guns and threats.”

“Good. That’s good. This is a harder than I thought it would be. So how do we do this?” Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair and flops onto the chair next to the sofa. “God this is hard and horrible. Maybe we should just forget about it. Maybe we shouldn’t be together at all; we completely bring out the worst in each other.”

“Possibly, but what’s your point? It’s supposed to be hard, Stiles. It is a big deal and it’s not something to take lightly.” Peter sits quietly for a moment, waiting until Stiles looks calmer and his scent isn’t so bitter. “Should we think about going after truly bad people? There’s a lot of them in the world, you know. It’s not hard to find evil, here or elsewhere.”

Stiles sits up in the chair, looking over Peter’s head, lost in thought. “Finding evil people? How would we do that? I mean, I could hack into the Sheriff’s office, but are they really the kind of evil you mean? Aren’t we looking at killers and rapists and things like that? Not just serial bad drivers?”

“That would be my thought,” Peter says, chuckling, thinking of Stiles’ stack of traffic tickets. “I suppose we could target some people, but otherwise…” He stops and thinks for a moment, and says, “We could go to the so-called bad section of town, here and otherwise, and wait until someone tries to kill us and then -- then we make sure they don’t do that again.”

“We don’t want to kill a simple mugger though. So we’d have to make sure they were really planning on hurting us,” Stiles says, nodding along with Peter’s idea, smelling sweet and excited again.

“Well, we could put the fear of god into someone who is _just_ a mugger,” Peter allows. “And for those who need more, we give them more.”

“Can you tell? Is there something you could scent, that would tell you if they’re murderous or just, I dunno, on drugs or drunk or something?”

Peter leans back, lacing his fingers together as he thinks. “I would say so, yes. I can certainly smell chemicals on someone or alcohol. And I’ve been around enough people who truly want to kill, that I do recognize a smell. Kali or the darach, for instance.”

“We could look for supers who are dangerous to packs. Or if you know of any other hunters who don’t follow the code, I’d put them on the list,” Stiles says. He comes over and flops back onto Peter’s lap, wrapping his arm around Peter’s neck. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

“I hope so. I think we should.” Peter kisses Stiles’ cheek and says, “Whatever you want, and wherever. We can travel the country or go international. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. I have no love of this place, no reason to stay here. I like this house, but mostly because you’re in it.”

“I have… I have my dad. That’s it, the only reason to stay.”

“We’ll stay as long as you want, or visit when you want.” Peter strokes Stiles’ neck and whispers, “But I don’t think your father expects you to live with him forever. Or even to live in Beacon Hills forever.”

“No, probably not.” They’re both silent for a minute, lost in thought and plans for the future. “Hey, are we going to be international assassins?”

“You’re going to need much nicer clothes.” Peter says, tugging at Stiles’ t-shirt. “And a passport.”

 

Some years later

The custom agent looks through the pages of their passports, flipping past pages with stamps from other countries. “You’re here for business or vacation?”

“Vacation,” Peter says calmly, putting his sunglasses into his blazer’s pocket. “Definitely vacation,” he smiles over at Stiles. “Start here in Palermo and work our way up north eating and drinking ourselves to death.”

The man smiles; he’s barely paying attention, just being polite to two more American tourists. He stamps the passport and says, “Molto bene, welcome to Italy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think the scene with Theo is too graphic, but you know what you can take. 
> 
> If you think this needs more tags, let me know. 
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr, I'm Rebakitt3n over there.


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